


Just A Kid

by AHeartForStories



Series: Memoirs of a Survivor [8]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Gen, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHeartForStories/pseuds/AHeartForStories
Summary: TAGS AND RATING WILL CHANGE AS THE FIC GOES ON.A Httyd Zombie AU set in the modern world. There are dragons.At 15, Hiccup believes his biggest struggles are teachers who won't stop hounding him for his grades, a father who doesn't quite listen to him, or how unpopular he is at school. Every regular teenager's worst nightmare, right?But then a new and mysterious illness that's been rapidly spreading amongst the populace takes a surprising turn and the day comes Hiccup wishes his former daily struggles had been the only struggles he would have to deal with.He is, after all, just a kid.
Relationships: Astrid & Fishlegs & Hiccup & Ruffnut & Snotlout & Tuffnut, Gobber the Belch & Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Stoick the Vast, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Toothless
Series: Memoirs of a Survivor [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957513
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> After months of planning and daydreaming about this fic, I finally feel ready to post it. I have an outline, I have part of an outline for the sequel, I know where I want this fic to go, so hopefully, I am as ready as I feel like I am.
> 
> I was stuck between naming this fic this and 'Just A Boy' because it's a fic that's technically from Hiccup's perspective (as you'll see from the prologue), but I didn't want to exclude the Riders because this is just as much their story as it is Hiccup's.  
> So therefore the title 'Just A Kid' instead.
> 
> On with the prologue! I've taken some inspiration from the OG Httyd books.  
> Was very reluctant to go with this prologue instead of just diving straight into chapter 1, but I also couldn't think of any other way to start this fic off right. So I'm deciding to go with it.
> 
> Constructive criticism is appreciated.  
> Enjoy!

_ Let me just set the setting. _

_ I'm writing this as I'm sitting on a beach. The sand is coarse, I'm not a fan. It's getting all over me and in my clothes and all I'm doing is sitting here. In the meantime, I'm trying not to let Toothless drool all over this, he's very curious about what I'm doing here. _

_ Other than that, it's windy, cloudy, and the ocean is very grey. It's early afternoon and honestly too cold to take a dip, but that's clearly not an opinion shared by certain somebodies who are here at the beach with me. My friends, who have been with me through, well, everything. _

_ The truth is, I’m writing this because I was told to. Someone I care very much about told me to write this, believing that this will help me in some way. The thought of leaving a little piece of me behind for whoever ends up reading this sounds amazing to me, too. _

_ I'm not sure who I'm writing this to or who will end up reading this. Is this to my younger self as an apology? A reassurance? Is this dedicated to a hypothetical child that I might have someday? A hope? Or maybe this is for whoever ends up finding this someday, a stranger who might happen upon it long after I’m gone. _

_ I'm not sure about a lot of things, I'm not even sure I want anyone to read this, but it feels nice to believe that I'm not shouting into the void, that there's someone at the other end listening to me. _

_ I'm sitting here, wondering where I should even begin. Do I start with my childhood? Which was quite normal and happy? I had a dad, I never had a mom, but I had a neighbor who was like a second dad to me. I had two parents, I grew up happy for the most part. _

_ No, I don't think I should start that far back, I think I'll start at the beginning that matters. The day it all began. _

_ Outbreak Day. _


	2. The Ordinary Day Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one!  
> I have decided to give this fic kind of a slow start, this one is mainly just setting some stuff up, but I am so excited to share it with you all!  
> The school part is kind of long, though.
> 
> And I decided to get a little experimental with this fic as well. I've decided to add a little bit of narration at the beginnings and endings of chapters. It fits with the prologue being narration, this AU's title, and it's kind of an homage to how each movie and episode of RoB/DoB begins and ends. And RttE as well, since that show started with narration and ended with narration.
> 
> This entire first chapter was 24,5 pages and 9 524 words long, which is especially long for a first chapter of mine.
> 
> Constructive criticism is appreciated.  
> Enjoy!

_ Or rather, I’ll begin one day earlier... _

* * *

It is early in the morning and Stoick Haddock starts his day out like any other.

He wakes up around six in the morning, a digital alarm clock blaring on his nightstand before he shuts it off with surprising care. As this is routine for him, even on the weekend, he's been gradually rousing as he awaits the call of the clock.

Sitting up in bed, the covers fall from his person and the chill of the room greets him. An elbow on his knee, he rubs the remaining heaviness out of his eyelids with his other hand. He takes a moment to fully awaken, to find the energy to get up, and start another day as mayor of a lovely little town called Bjørk. It is a place inhabited by just a few too many people to be considered a village, one of the few settlements where everyone still knows everyone.

When Stoick gets up, the bed creaks beneath his weight as he stands on his feet with a grunt and a sigh. Moving to his wardrobe, he finds a fresh set of clothes to wear for the day.

_ "A good start makes for a good day." _ That's what he often says and a part of that starts with clean clothes.

Hanging them over one arm, Stoick leaves his room and faces the silence of the house. He intends on making his way to the bathroom and passes a second bedroom on the way. Its door is opposite to Stoick’s and he halts by it, taking a moment to carefully push the handle down and peek inside.

This is his son’s room. Quite unlike Stoick’s somewhat simple room, Hiccup’s is anything but. Stoick doesn’t spend much time in there so the man doesn’t see the point in excessively decorating it when all he does in that room is sleep.

But Hiccup is quite the artist and fancies himself as an inventor. Every inch of this room’s walls are decorated with sketches and finished drawings and paintings, the shelves that don't already have a book or a game on it holds some small creations of his, some wooden and some mechanical.

Yes, his son has a good head on his shoulders and of that fact the boy’s father is proud. If only he’d use those brains of his in school instead of daydreaming the hours away.

As Stoick peeks inside, he can see that Hiccup is still fast asleep. He’s curled up underneath his blanket, his hair just barely poking out as he breathes in and out deeply, a telling sign of just how far away he is.

And he’s not the only one present in this room. The family cat, a large black cat with yellow eyes by the name of Fiddlesticks, sleeps at the foot end of the bed. Opening his eyes, he gazes at the large man and meows loudly. He’s only a little bit younger than the boy he shares the bed with.

“Good morning to you, too, Fiddlesticks.” He greets the old cat before he removes himself from the room. He closes the door just as softly as he’d opened it and continues on to the bathroom.

It doesn’t take him long to get dressed. Within half an hour of closing the bathroom door behind him, he changed and took care of his beard, having combed it until it lies neatly on top of his button-up shirt. Leaving, he soon descends down the stairs and finds the hallway, he goes about the rest of his morning routine.

Just as it is still quiet in the house, it isn’t quite as light yet either. The morning sun of late Spring comes in through the windows and sheds the living room in a calming new light. On his way to the kitchen, Stoick makes his way through it.

There is always a certain peacefulness that the dawn brings. As a morning person, it is one of his favorite parts of waking early.

Alas, Hiccup is more of a night owl as he doesn’t appreciate mornings as much as his father does. The boy has often told him that his creativity peaks the most after eleven, not that Stoick understands what that means. Can’t he make his creativity peak at a more reasonable hour? He might get more sleep if he does!

Reaching the kitchen, Stoick plans on getting breakfast ready. Should he make some eggs? Hiccup usually prefers cereal or toast, however.

He’ll think of something. By the time seven am arrives, he’ll have the table set up and a breakfast ready for him and his son. By then, it’ll be time to call Hiccup up for school.

With their family consisting of only two people and a cat, setting up the table and making breakfast with bacon, eggs, and toast is a breeze. He makes his way back towards the hallway and faces the stairs.

“Hiccup! Get up, son! It’s Monday!” He calls up, but the only reply he receives thus far is silence.

“Hiccup!”

The second time, he gets a tired moan for a response and Stoick lets out a sigh. Well, at least he got an answer on the second try instead of the fifth or the sixth. Or the seventh.

Somewhat confident that Hiccup will consider getting up, Stoick returns to the eggs and bacon in the kitchen. Grabbing his plate, he loads the majority of the food in the frying pan up and takes his seat at the table. Before he left the stove, he made sure to leave enough bacon and crack two more eggs in the pan for Hiccup.

Elbows on the table, Stoick has a fulfilling first meal of the day.

Occasionally, he looks at the clock and watches as the minutes tick by slowly while he eats in silence. He's certain of it that he called Hiccup up and that he replied. Yet, time passes and it appears like he won't be getting up on his own.

It's those darn video games, he swears. Hiccup shouldn't stay up well past midnight just to do  _ "one more level" _ . 11pm at the latest, that is what they agreed on. By then, he needs to be ready and in bed.

But this morning wouldn't be like any other ordinary morning if Stoick wasn't forced to drag his son out of bed.

Finishing his breakfast and wiping his mouth with a paper towel, Stoick presses a button on the coffee machine and he heads out of the room to return to the hallway to wake Hiccup up again. He stands by the stairs, a hand on the railing.

"Hiccup Haddock! For Thor's sake, son, get up! If you don't get up now, you're going to be late! Again." He shouts loud enough to be heard.

Another unintelligible moan.

"Hiccup!"

"Coming!" That's better. With the reassurance that Hiccup may actually get up now, Stoick can go back to wait for his morning coffee.

Though their home's walls aren't paper thin, he can hear rummaging coming from the floor above him. Hiccup's room is situated on top of the kitchen and he can hear the boy rushing about to pull his clothes on and collect his stuff.

"Don't need to rush if you get up on time, son!" Stoick calls up, not sure if he even heard him properly.

Minutes later, there is someone running down the stairs and Hiccup finally shows his face in the kitchen. Slurping from his coffee, Stoick turns away from the stove to face him.

Hiccup stands there, shoulders hunched, clearly tired even now. He's wearing a green blouse with dark jeans underneath.

"Morning, dad." He greets his father and promptly drops down onto his chair at the breakfast table, leaving his packed backpack by the door. It's black with accents of red, one might call it a typically boyish bag. His father bought it for him because it is sturdy and has a lot of space.

“Good morning,” Stoick returns it and grabs his plate to give him his food.

Once Hiccup is eating, he grabs his dirty dishes to wash and lets the water run. After opening the faucet, he turns to face the boy.

“You know, son, you would do a lot better in school if you actually went to bed on time.” Stoick says as he waits for the sink to fill.

Hiccup briefly pauses with a mouthful and gazes at his dad with a deadpan look before he swallows.

“I do go to bed on time and my grades are fine!” He makes a claim, one Stoick doesn't fall for at all.

“No, you don’t and your grades are only just above acceptable. You can do better than that, Hiccup, we both know this. You’re a bright boy, you should use that head of yours more.” He argues back strictly. He looks back at the sink to find it full and soapy enough and collects his dishes to soak, the soon-to-be empty coffee mug will follow swiftly

Hiccup, with his stomach the size of a ping pong ball, should be done soon, too. He doesn't have the patience to spend time eating.

The teen suppresses a sigh and leans his cheek on a palm. He's tired of hearing it, but his dad clearly isn't done talking about it.

"I know." So that's his response and it's the easiest way to put an end to this discussion. No amount of  _ "I'm doing the best that I can" _ will satisfy his dad as admitting that he's right will and it will only make this drag and drag.

Yet, Hiccup really is trying his best in school and he's not blind to the fact that he has a good set of brains. It might make him sound like a horribly spoiled child, but school is just boring to him. He can't focus on anything and daydreams his days away. He puts effort in class and in his homework, but no matter how hard he tries to pay attention, he just can't.

Explaining this to his dad hasn't been the most fruitful of endeavours either, he always gets the same answer when he makes an attempt.

_ "Then you should try harder." _

_ “Stop drawing in class and listen to your teachers.” _

_ “Do your homework and study for once.” _

These three are just a few of the many comments Hiccup has gotten whenever he tries to approach the subject of school with him. Talking with his father when it comes to this is like talking to a wall, which is why Hiccup has settled for just agreeing with him instead. It is much, much quicker and spares them both many frustrations.

“Good,” Stoick says, washing the dishes. “Then I can expect to see a change in your grades soon?”

Hiccup nods and continues his breakfast as if that change will ever come. Maybe someday by some miracle, but not anytime soon.

Just as Hiccup finishes his meal, his father finishes with his dirty dishware. Hiccup’s can be cleaned while he dries and together they can be done in minutes.

After that, it’s off to class and work for them. Ten minutes tops and they’ll be out.

* * *

The dishes done and their stuff collected, Hiccup and his father soon find themselves in the car. First, Stoick will be dropping his son off at school before he goes to work.

The car ride is mostly quiet, as it usually is. They don’t particularly have a lot to say to one another, though they are family and have lived together Hiccup’s entire life. They are quite different from each other and often that can lead to silent moments such as this.

With Stoick at the driver’s seat, Hiccup sits on the passenger’s side at the front next to him. His bag is on the carpeted floor between his legs, his head rests against the window.

"You'll remember to do well in school today?" Stoick asks and that is usually the topic that breaks their silences. School.

"Yeah, sure." Hiccup settles for that response, gaze firmly glued to the passing view outside of the window. Although, the sights he sees are sights he's seen a million times before and will without a doubt see a million times again.

The car passes an elderly man with a small lap dog as they do their daily morning walk. Hiccup's gaze remains on the dog until they're out of view, a slight smile on his face.

"I mean it, son. Your school called yesterday, they want to meet me again at the end of the week to talk about your grades." There's a hard tone to Stoick's voice, but all Hiccup can do is sigh.

"Don't sigh, son."

"And why shouldn't I?" Hiccup turns away from the view to face his father. "My grades aren't bad! I don’t get why they’re being so difficult about this!”

He can’t, he really can’t, as it’s not like he’s failing every class! Okay, maybe there are some he’s barely passing when they all know he should be doing better, but they don’t give other students as much criticism as they do him. Snotlout is barely passing  _ anything _ and not even he is hounded as much as Hiccup is!

And believe him, he doesn’t get why he is the way he is either. He understands everything the teachers throw at him, he can do his assignments, tests are hardly a challenge for him, and yet, his grades still aren’t what they should be.

“If your grades aren’t bad, then why do your teachers keep calling me?” Stoick asks in return and Hiccup, finding no answer he would like, turns to look out the window again.

Just a little while longer. They’re in their last trimester of the year, just a little while longer and then summer vacation will be here. He won’t have to think about school again for at least two whole months.

His dad doesn’t continue with the topic, quite tired of it himself, and Hiccup is left alone for the time being. His teachers will probably bring it up later anyway, like they often do.

They’re passing the hospital now, another sight Hiccup should’ve seen a million times before, but some changes have occured during the weekend.

For some unknown reason, they’ve put up fencing around the entire perimeter around the hospital and they’ve hung big, opaque white, plastic-looking textile on them, hiding everything from view. It’s as if no one is allowed to see inside.

They mustn’t have been up for longer than those two days, because he doesn’t remember seeing them last Friday. He can see some tires peeking out at the bottom and the top of ambulances, but nothing else.

The unexpected secrecy surrounding the hospital worries Hiccup. This doesn’t look like something one would do if they weren’t worried about something.

There is a strange illness that’s been popping up for the past few weeks now. He knows the number of people affected has been growing at a faster pace, but until now, it didn’t seem like anything dangerous. Something none of their immune systems is used to fight, for sure, but nothing that seems like something they should be worried about.

Hiccup doesn’t know much of the details, he hasn’t been following this situation too closely as he figures his dad probably knows more. Maybe he should be paying attention.

Whatever this is, it’s been described as a kind of flu, a virus. There’s an incubation period of a few days followed by extreme fatigue, a lack of appetite, and a fever. Nothing too alarming, right? It’s an illness, of course one is going to feel a little tired and not feel like eating. But what sets this one apart from the rest is how sudden and how high the onsetting fever is a day or two after the fatigue, or sometimes a mere few hours.

Due to its rapid spread and flu-like appearance, people showing signs of fatigue are asked to stay home.

Very few people listen, of course. And the people of Bjørk, they are particularly stubborn in their work.

As the car drives past the hospital, Hiccup can see that there is only one opening on the perimeter and that’s for ambulances, the police, doctors, and a few other select vehicles that are allowed past. For everybody else, what’s going on inside is a complete mystery.

When the white curtain and the building are no longer in sight, Hiccup faces his father again. He’s worried.

“We’re going to be okay, right? I mean, everyone’s being so strangely calm about this whole situation, that means it has to be nothing, right?” He asks, gesturing with a thumb behind them.

“Of course, son, all of this is going to blow over soon.” Stoick reassures him, trusting that the people in charge know what they’re doing.

“Is it? I mean, they said on the news the other day that people are getting sicker way faster out of nowhere, right? Isn’t that bad?” He asks further, not quite convinced.

They used to say that it  _ appeared _ like this mystery disease wasn’t too bad, but then they also used to say that it didn’t seem like it would spread all that faster either.

“I don’t know, son, I’m not a medical professional. What I do know is that this is something new and we just need to figure out how to treat it.” Stoick answers honestly, but also like someone who doesn’t quite get medical stuff. He doesn’t know how diseases work and he won’t pretend that he does, not even for Hiccup’s sake. What he will do, is try to ease his worries as much as he can.

“And if we can’t?”

Stoick chuckles as if that’s so hard to fathom.

“Then we would be in one of those computer games you like to play and those are fictional, son. In the real world, we deal with these things and we overcome them.” He confidently tells the boy, certain of the security the modern medical world provides.

Stoick is of the opinion that Hiccup has let those virtual games or whatever get to his head. There’s no reason to worry, he should think of his schoolwork instead.

“O-o-okay, but-”

“Hiccup, there is nothing to worry about.” Stoick interrupts him with a smile, hoping that this final reassurance is what he needs to calm the doubtful voices in his mind.

It doesn’t, but talking to his dad will always feel like talking to a wall. He could lose a leg and Stoick would still be insisting that it’s there. A very specific analogy, but that’s what it feels like to him.

The conversation ends with that, Stoick assured and Hiccup uncertain, but wanting to believe his father. After all, he’s been around for much longer, if anybody should know, it should be him, right?

Turning one final corner, the school appears up ahead and Hiccup sinks in his seat, all thoughts of the hospital forgotten.

Great, they’re here.

The car pulls into the parking lot in front of the school, where another two cars are parked as Hiccup apparently isn’t the only one to arrive two minutes before the first bell.

"Just in time." His father mutters in relief, time stress falls from his shoulders. They made it, but they would've gotten here faster if Hiccup wasn't so slow in getting up in the morning.

Undoing his seatbelt, Hiccup grabs his bag from between his legs and exits the car.

"Don't forget what we talked about, son. Focus on school and work your hardest!" Stoick reminds him and Hiccup fights the need to roll his eyes.

"I know, dad!" He remarks, knowing he'll end up doing the exact opposite. Besides, there's a doodle he just remembered he didn't finish last Friday.

"Have fun at school!" Dad shouts quickly before Hiccup can close the door on him.

"I won't, but okay. Bye." Hiccup straightens, swinging his bag over one shoulder.

"Bye, son!" The door closes and the engine roars back to life. Hiccup watches his dad's car drive off as he walks to the gate, the man inside the vehicle too big for it.

The second he sets foot onto the school grounds, the bell rings and Hiccup lets out another sigh before heading straight to class.

* * *

School is as uneventful as ever. Hiccup goes from class to class, attempting to do as his father wishes him to do and pay attention, only to daydream the hours away. Well, daydream and doodle them away. He did finally finish that dragon he was doing the week before. It's a Night Fury, a species he's a little bit fascinated by.

He hopes he gets to see one someday. Small dragons, like Terrible Terrors, can sometimes be found rummaging in the garbage, but the really big dragons he’s never gotten to see before. Once or twice he saw a big one flying high in the sky over the town of Bjørk.

Seeing them made him want to be up there with them. He’d be free from school and his father’s expectations and, as a bonus, he’d be amongst the dragons, too.

Maybe, someday, he’ll get to do something with them.

But yhat fascination of his with those winged creatures can get him a world of problems sometimes. Besides missing schoolwork and simply being unable to focus on class, his enthusiasm tends to push people away, too. After all, they are terrifying creatures that can breathe fire and some species can be as big as a house! Sometimes even bigger! Why would you like them?

This means that he doesn’t have friends, something that greatly disappoints his father, too.

_ “You’re a bright and social boy, Hiccup!” _ He would always start.  _ “I’m sure if you approached your peers, you’d have friends in no time!” _

His dad has no idea how school works, apparently. But then again, he’s old, so-

Hiccup should probably never ever say that out loud in front of his father, he would never hear the end of it.

During lunch and recess, Hiccup would sit alone. There used to be Fishlegs, who is someone he knows since kindergarten, but things have unfortunately changed between them since then.

But he’s in a different year and so are Ruffnut and Tuffnut, a pair of twins that he regularly hangs out with. All three of them are a year younger than Hiccup.

The only two people he usually socializes with, Astrid and Snotlout, are both in his year and in his class. He’s only happy about one of those two.

Eventually, history arrives.

Hiccup would usually have his sketchbook out to doodle, but the teacher has taken it from him and so he’s left to do either one of two things. Either he stares at the whiteboard or he stares out the window, there are no other options.

His history teacher, Mrs. Bellum, she doesn't like Hiccup very much. Or rather, those are the vibes he gets from her since the first lesson in the beginning of the year.

Besides asking for his sketchbook as soon as she sees him walk into the classroom, he feels like she's harsher on him during tests and assignments, and she likes to occasionally put him on the spot by picking him to answer a question knowing he's not paying attention.

For any teenager that's an embarrassing thing. And if you haven't listened for the past ten minutes or so, like Hiccup certainly hasn't 90% of the time, it becomes humiliating as he stumbles through an answer while his peers stare and his teacher silently judges him. For anyone his age who doesn't have friends or is generally unpopular, things like that only worsens it.

"Hiccup Haddock, rise, please." Oh right, and she makes him stand up in front of everyone as she humiliates him.

He does as he's told, chair loud as he shoves it back in order to get to his feet.

_ “You have two perfectly healthy, young legs, it won’t kill you to use them.” _ Is what she said the one time he told her he would rather not get off his chair. He’s the only one who’s asked to do so.

Now at the center of attention, he crosses his arms defensively and looks his teacher in the eye.

Always dressed in shades of beige and grey and like she's a 1940's teacher, Mrs. Bellum scrutinizes him from afar.

"Can you tell me how long the reign of the Dragon Chief lasted?" She asks and the blonde girl sitting at the desk directly behind him, Astrid Hofferson, looks up at him expectantly.

Snotlout, too, put at the very front row of the class because he’s a troublemaker, awaits his answer. He doesn’t pay attention either, but he can always hone in on him and whenever he makes a fool of himself. The same goes for his two buddies, which so happen to be in this classroom as well.

They're finishing up the topic of Vikings and the guy Mrs. Bellum asks him about is some important chief in their history and known for his dragons, but Hiccup can barely remember his name.

“Like, ten years? Give or take?” Hiccup eventually settles on a round number while remembering that most people did not even get to the then ripe old age of 50.

Mrs. Bellum makes a condescending noise as she shakes her head.

“He was chief for about 35 years, a long time for a man of his time to rule, which you would’ve known if you were paying attention, Mr. Haddock. Take your seat.” She points out, as if he needs any more reminders to listen in class. After that little bit of torment, she goes on with the lesson.

Glancing at the rest of the class and finding Snotlout and his two buddies failing to hide their giggles, Hiccup feels his cheeks heat up and sits back down.

It goes without saying that Hiccup doesn’t like this particular teacher.

Not long after embarrassing him with that question, she then goes and makes his dislike for her grow by bringing up the two words he never wants to hear together.

“And today, I also mean to talk about a group project that will count for half of this trimester’s final grade.” There are groans all around while Hiccup takes it a step further and sinks in his seat. At least he isn’t alone in his disdain for the dreaded group projects.

He hates everything having to do with them. The working with classmates part, the expecting to do everything himself because he’s the smart guy part, and then the eventual consequence of not doing much himself and having both an angry teacher and angry fellow classmates because said classmates pushed all the work on him.

“We have discussed many peoples who were alive during the Middle Ages, now I expect my students to be divided into groups, choose any one of them to research, and then present your findings in front of me and your classmates in a 10 to 15 minute presentation. You are allowed to choose your own partners, I hope I can expect my students to be able to carry this responsibility.” Mrs. Bellum discloses what she expects from them and there’s another collective groan from everyone present.

10 to 15 whole minutes?! Does she know how long that is?!

And then there is one more problem, or he can be a problem if he so wishes to be, which he often does wish.

“A group project, she says…” Snotlout Jorgenson, who sits a few seats diagonally in front of Hiccup. The teacher doesn’t like him either, just less than she dislikes Hiccup and his “wasted potential”.

Upon hearing him, Hiccup can already be heard groaning in the background.

“And I can choose my own partner…” The gears are turning in his head and Snotlout looks in Hiccup’s direction, smirking.

"Oh, here it comes." Hiccup says, dreading what he's about to say. Has he not learned his lesson by now?!

"Miss, can Hiccup and I work together?" Snotlout raises his hand and asks, practically jumping up and down in his seat.

Hiccup, meanwhile, sinks even lower in his, just shy of sliding right off.

Oh great, just great. Of course, Snotlout wants to work together for a group project, why would he ever think otherwise?

"Yes, of cpurse." Snotlout's enthusiasm pleases her and she agrees with his request.

Hiccup lets out a groan, covering his face with his hands.

Someone right behind him raises her hand.

"Mrs. Bellum, can I please join Hiccup and Snotlout?"

Though still very slouched in his chair, Hiccup moves his head back to look at Astrid, whom he's looking at upside down now. At her insistence to join his group, he feels his cheeks heat up.

Does she really want to join  _ his _ group?

"If the boys don't mind, then I'm sure you can." Mrs. Bellum decides, not looking up from the papers she's looking through. They must have the whole assignment written on it in more detail. She's licking her fingers as she divides the stack in bundles of seven for each student, a great thing to witness in the middle of a possible pandemic.

"Oh, we don't mind, we definitely don't mind." Snotlout responds in a suave tone, leaning an elbow on the desk of the student behind him. She, a girl with two braids, freckles, and a pair of glasses, draws her crossed arms back and gives him a look.

Astrid ignores him, though her brows do dip quite a bit.

The rest of the class chooses their teams, dividing 21 students into seven groups of three. Loud, chaotic chattering that will prove disastrous on Hiccup's ears will soon ensue, but before that, Mrs. Bellum intends to explain what the assignment will be about. Hiccup finds himself accidentally tuning most of that out, too.

* * *

"So we have to choose a society that lived during the Middle Ages."

"Uh, yup, heard that."

"Snotlout chose the Vikings."

"Yeah, he sure did. It's an interesting subject, I'll admit."

"Okay, so when did you stop listening?" Astrid asks, her hands on her hips.

"Uh, somewhere after that?" Hiccup replies sheepishly, shrugging with a slightly apologetic smile on his face.

"Ugh!"

It's the last 15 minutes of free time before the final two hour period ends another Monday. Hiccup sits outside and for once he’s not sitting alone. Astrid is with him, but apparently, it’s purely to quiz him on their group assignment.

He sits cross-legged against a wall, sketchbook on his lap and wanting to draw, but being unable to with Astrid here.

Instead of discussing this with them, Snotlout is over on the other side of the yard together with Ruff and Tuff, the kids from a year below him who he usually hangs out with. His two buddies from their class are with them, too. Two meatheads just as big as him, Bard and Bjorn.

Oh, and Fishlegs is there as well.

“I really don’t get you.” Astrid tells Hiccup bluntly, starting a different, yet related, conversation.

“I’d say  _ “join the club” _ , but what about me is it that  _ you _ don’t get?” Because there are many people who don’t get him and all for their own reasons, lack of grades despite a smart brain is just the most popular one. Being weirdly fascinated by dragons is the second most popular.

“That you actively sabotage yourself, maybe? You are so smart! Why are you flunking school?!” Ah, so she’s a part of the majority, where his father and teachers are, too.

Frowning, Hiccup sighs and looks away.

It would seem that might be the reason why she bothered to join their group, to make sure it actually gets done.

“So I guess that’s why you asked to be in our group? I’m sure it’s not because of Snotlout’s irresistible charm.” Hiccup asks to be sure. Besides, there are probably enough teams who would’ve loved to have Astrid with them. She works hard, has good grades, and everyone likes her.

And yet, Astrid is a solitary girl. She could make plenty of friends as plenty are willing, but instead, she has only one.

“Actually, I joined for your sake, believe it or not." She lets him know and he looks up at her in surprise.

"You-you did?"

"Yes, I did. I know how Snotlout can take advantage of you, he's been doing it all year. You should grow a backbone and say  _ "no" _ to him once in a while." Astrid is blunt in her words, as she usually is.

"I didn't even say  _ "yes" _ to the assignment, but I'll be sure to add  _ "suddenly grow a backbone" _ to my to-do list." Hiccup grumbles. Apparently, it's only clear to him that he never agreed to work with Snotlout.

"I'll work on it from Friday evenings to Monday mornings, how does that sound?" Hiccup asks and Astrid frowns and crosses her arms.

"Astrid!"

The two look over to find another girl, Heather, approaching. She's the one friend Astrid has.

The two hug and Hiccup feels like a third wheel already. And it wasn't even him who went to hang out with Astrid, she's the one who came to him.

Either way, he gathers his stuff and stands up to move someplace else.

* * *

Hiccup isn't sure where Astrid's sudden need to make him perform better herself comes from, she usually stays out of pretty much everything that doesn't involve her or Heather, but he doesn't appreciate it.

Nonetheless, they do sometimes talk. With Astrid not being the most social of people either and Hiccup as the school outcast, she finds it easier to talk to him then others of their peers. And usually sitting either behind him, in front of him, or next to him also helps.

Today, she abuses this power by drawing his attention and then telling him to pay attention to class, ask him things about the lecture, or talk about whatever the teacher has them working on.

The final two hours of this Monday consists of a math class. Oh joy.

Though, it’s a subject Hiccup is supposed to be quite good at as he and numbers do get along, if only he bothered to do his homework. Because he understands the countless formulas and he can count amazingly well, he just doesn’t do his work as often as he should.

And once again, a plastic ruler pokes him between the shoulderblades.

Fighting a sigh, Hiccup turns his head to look over his shoulder.

“You’re doodling.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re doodling!” Astrid whispers in dismay and Hiccup looks back at his assignment sheet, as if unaware he’s been drawing all over it.

This time, instead of dragons, there are many circles, squares, triangles, and other figures, most are flat and some are three dimensional. He only vaguely remembers doing any of these, so he must’ve gone into a trance at some point while solving the questions.

“Huh, I-I guess I have.” He shrugs, sounding too non-chalant to Astrid’s liking.

But for all his complaints, Hiccup is fully aware of how uncaring he comes across and for that a small part of him feels guilty. Then again, it’s hard to care when people keep bringing these things up to him on a weekly basis, if it isn’t near daily.

“You’re impossible.”

“And-and you care too much. Why-why do you care so much?” Hiccup asks, turning in his chair to face her. He wonders for what reason Astrid feels like she needs to, pretty much out of nowhere, involve herself in his business.

“Because you’re smart and you’re not doing anything with those brains. I would kill to be that smart!” She hisses back at him.

“Wha-what?!” Hiccup can hardly believe his ears. “You have almost all the best grades! Why-why do you want to be even smarter?!”

“Don’t change the subject, Hiccup.” She scolds him.

“What-what does-does that even mean? I’m not changing-changing the-”

“We’re hanging out after school tomorrow together with Snotlout to work on our project.” Interrupting him mid-sentence, Astrid has decided for all three of them. Without consulting their parents, no less!

Hiccup has always known Astrid to be a little pushy, but this?

“Mr. Haddock and Mrs. hofferson,” The two look to the front of the class to find Mr. Hoover looking at them. “Anything we want to share with the class?”

The two shake their heads.

“Then continue your work and don’t disturb your classmates, please.” He asks of them and they nod a second time, Hiccup turning back around in his seat. At least, this time he manages to finish his sheet.

* * *

The rest of Hiccup’s day at school is similarly uneventful and when the last bell finally rings, he’s one of the first students out.

His father is still at work, so while he drives his son to school every morning, Hiccup is expected to find his way home alone.

He doesn’t mind as he likes the walk. And with late spring in full swing, his walks home are enjoyable, the temperatures are just perfect.

Besides, this way he can visit a dear family friend. He goes there often enough, almost every day even, so by now, Stoick expects him to be there to be picked up when he’s done with work.

When the sign of a mechanics shop appears in the distance, standing out on a street amongst houses and other little shops, Hiccup smiles. He’s happy to put an end to this day and be home.

With a skip in his step, Hiccup hurries up the driveway and enters in through the wide open garage doors. As Bjørk is only a small town, there is only one shop like this and it handles a lot more than just cars as a result. But despite this, the owner is never too busy for him.

“Gobber!” Hiccup calls out to him.

“Ah, Hiccup! Done with school for the day, are you, lad?” Upon hearing the boy’s voice, Gobber appears from the back of the shop. There’s a wide smile on his face as he limps over to greet him back.

“Yup!”

“And did you do any better today?” And though Gobber asks after his performance in school, too, he does so with a smile and an air that he only asks as a formality.

“Oh, who? me? Oh yeah, completely turned my life around! Got nothing but the highest score on every test and every assignment and got awarded the award for best student in our school’s history!” Hiccup lays it on thick.

“HA! I always knew you could do it!” Gobber claps him hard on his back and Hiccup can barely keep standing, but he still smiles.

If there’s any place he can even mention school without causing a spike of anxiety to well up in his chest, it’s here.

“Now go put your bag in the back and get yourself something with lots of sugar and caffeine to drink. I’m going to need your help with this one!” Gobber walks away afterward and Hiccup is quick to do as he’s told.

If there’s one thing other than dragons and drawing that he really likes, it’s working with his hands. Maybe it sounds just a tad bit odd, but he loves the smell of metal.

And when he was little, or littler, he used to take his dad’s screwdriver from the heavy toolbox he kept too low in a closet that was always unlocked. And with it, he would take out the screws of things like he’d seen his dad do and then he’d see the inside of those things.

At first, his dad used to get angry, because it didn’t just stay with a look. Before long, the entire thing Hiccup was “looking at” would’ve been completely disassembled and neither of them would know how to put it back together again.

That changed along the way and Hiccup has the sneaking suspicious Gobber had something to do with that. They both see the potential in him and his interest in how things tick.

Maybe that’s why he’s not doing anything in school, why he’s so bored. Because he knows math, he knows languages, he doesn’t care about history. What his school has to offer are things he either doesn’t want or doesn’t need.

Having put his backpack away and cared for his parched throat, Hiccup joins Gobber in the garage again and what he has is an alarm that needs fixing.

“Where did this one come from?” Hiccup asks, jumping up to sit on the table instead of a chair, like Gobber.

The man hands him the little box or something that used to be a little box, is more accurate. It looks like one that belongs on a door, a little thing that acts as an alarm when a door is opened when it’s supposed to be locked.

“Ah, Jorgenson. Again! Still hasn’t learned that punching the damn thing won’t make the alarm stop.” He explains, causing Hiccup to shake his head in amusement.

“Now, can you tell me what’s wrong with it?” He asks and Hiccup figures that he must be joking.

Where to even start? The casing is destroyed, it practically falls apart in his hands, the wiring is sticking out, the sensor is missing, … Just about everything is wrong with it.

“Ah well… Everything?” He asks after some minor deliberation, holding it up, and Gobber chuckles.

“So what do you think? Is it salvageable or should we charge Spitelout with a replacement?” he asks and Hiccup quickly chooses the latter.

“It’s trashed! We have to get him a replacement!” He tells him. He doesn’t particularly like Spitelout, he’s Snotlout’s dad, after all, but he wouldn’t just charge him with the expenses of a replacement if that wasn’t what he needed.

Though, he would certainly deserve it. Everytime he trashes an alarm, they are the ones who have to get him a new one!

“Exactly what I would do! And maybe this teaches him not to punch his alarm system every time it makes a noise and just use the code instead.” Gobber tells him and pats him on the shoulder proudly.

Gobber is a family friend, but in the workshop, he’s like a mentor to Hiccup.

He knows of Hiccup’s disinterest in school and anything his father wants him to do and he knows of his interest in finding out how things work, which has led to him developing an interest in mechanics and, to a certain extent, inventing.

If Stoick would let him, Hiccup could finetune these interests and do something with his life that the boy would actually enjoy doing.

With the door alarm trash anyway, Hiccup throws it to the side in a crate with other trashed items that can no longer be recycled.

Meanwhile, Gobber gets up to see if he has anything in storage for the Jorgensons.

“How’s your drawing going, lad? Still doing dragons?” He asks as he moves into the backroom, where spare parts and other such things also are on neatly aligned shelves that have layers of dust on them.

Sliding off the table, Hiccup follows him.

“Uh yeah, still doing dragons. Night Furies, mostly.” His voice becomes softer as he talks, somewhat embarrassed at the repetitiveness of his drawing. He can do a lot more than dragons, that’s just what he likes drawing the most.

“Haven’t you ever thought of doing something with that?” Gobber asks as he reaches for one of the tops shelves.

“Which part, the dragons or the drawing?” Hiccup asks and watches him struggle.

He should probably help, maybe he can go grab a stool and look on that shelf himself. At 5ft9, Gobber isn’t exactly short, but having only one remaining arm and leg can complicate things a bit in his daily life. Hiccup is just glad to have both of his arms and legs.

“Eh, whichever you prefer.” His mentor shrugs before a cloud of dust comes down on him, causing a coughing fit for both. If only he cleaned in here at least once a year.

“I mean-” Hiccup is briefly interrupted by more coughing.

“I mean, I’ve definitely thought of it, but my dad would never agree to a career in art.” He answers, which is a shame as it’s one of the few things he can actually keep his focus on.

And it’s not just drawing that he can do either, he can work with charcoal, he’s an excellent painter, a great digital artist, … Give him any sort of medium to work with, he’s confident he can do something with it.

He knows he has the skill and he wishes his dad would see the value in them, too.

“And, eh…” Gobber makes a brief pause, not missing the disappointment Hiccup shows upon telling him that his father won’t entertain the idea of an art career for his son.

“How about dragons? You’re interested in them, too, aren’t you? You still were last time I checked.” Gobber continues and finally manages to grab a white box with a brand new alarm system that isn’t quite as dusty as the shelf he took it from.

“... Yeah,” Hiccup’s answer comes a little bit more hesitant this time around and the man notices.

On his way back to the workshop, he gives Hiccup a glance in passing.

“You don’t sound so sure.” He tells him while Hiccup follows him back. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your parents, does it?”

Hiccup doesn’t quite respond to that, at least, not with words. His gaze is downcast and he’s shuffling his feet while Gobber takes his seat again and inspects the nearly entirely white box.

Before he calls Spitelout to come pick it up, he needs to be sure it’s the same model he already has at his home. He has some difficulty adapting to technology, so getting him an entirely new system will only throw him off more.

Finding that it is the right system, Gobber looks at Hiccup again, who has been standing there silently with his arms crossed.

“Hiccup,” He calls the boy’s name, still not having had an answer to his question.

“Maybe, probably… Kinda…” Three different answers, but combined, they tell the man that he most likely means a “yes”. His parents do have something to do with it.

According to Hiccup’s dad, his mom left long ago to go do something with dragons. He was two, maybe three years old when she left to “follow her calling” and Stoick has been raising their son without her ever since.

And maybe that’s why his dad doesn’t want him to focus on anything else but school. And maybe that’s why, despite his interest in these creatures, Hiccup hasn’t delved all that deeply into them. His mom leaving them for the very reptiles he is always so entranced by and how hurt his father has been, they may have dampened his want to learn massively.

And maybe that, in turn, has contributed to his worsening grades. He’s not interested in anything they can teach him, his father doesn’t see him thrive in art, and dragons bring them bad memories, so what’s left for him to do?

Lowering the box and shaking his head, Gobber sighs.

Unfortunately, there’s only so much he can do. He can’t make Hiccup’s teachers give him some breathing space, can’t make Stoick change his mind, or help Hiccup deal with family drama that started before he was even old enough to go to school!

But what he can do, however, is nurture his interest in mechanics and inventing. Maybe it won’t make him thrive financially, but it will at least be something he wants to do.

“Come on, calling Spitelout can wait. There’s something else you and I can work on!” Gobber decides and places the white box on the workbench in front of him.

Enough talk about sadness, it’s time to make that brain of his work for a change.

* * *

Another hour or two after the last school bell rang, Mayor Stoick was finally satisfied with his work for the day. He left his office, said goodbye to his secretary, to any administrator and other employee he passed, including the janitor on duty on his way to his car, and drove over to his old friend’s workshop to pick them both up.

It’s become part of the daily routine for them. As Stoick heads off to work, he drops his son off at school. Once work is done, he picks both Hiccup and Gobber up for dinner at the Haddock household.

Usually, the rest of the evening for the two men is spent watching the news and then tv with a drink while Hiccup is expected to spend his free time on his homework. Which he, of course, doesn’t do as often as he really should.

Gobber understands, he never liked to do his homework either.

“And I told the ugly bastard that if he didn’t like the way I run this town, he had to run for mayor himself.” The flat of Stoick’s hand only just avoids slamming onto the dinner table hard enough to make some things take a tumble as he recounts his day. It’s just after dinner, his meal has barely been gone for two minutes.

“Hah! Did you tell him he would need to run against you?” Gobber asks as he takes a gulp of his beer.

“Of course, and he changed his tune soon after.” Gobber lets out an even louder “HAH!” in response.

Hiccup, having only eaten about half of what’s on his plate, gets up to go to his room. Hearing his dad talk about his day is fun and all, but he should probably leave before they ask him how his has been.

The chair scoots back loudly as he gets up and it’s too late.

“So how about you, son? How was your day?” Stoick asks and Hiccup looks at him. His dad only wants to know how well he did and, unlike Gobber, he doesn’t expect a joke for an answer.

“Uh, well, great, I guess? Got math homework to do, but I already finished that in class.” Because really, what else was he going to do in that class besides daydream, which is a big no-no? Stoick seems pleased with that, at least.

“And then I got this group project for history with two of my classmates, Astrid and Snotlout. We’re going to give a presentation on Vikings.” Hiccup tells him about his big assignment next and Stoick hums understandingly, seemingly satisfied with what he hears.

“What about that biology test?” A question springs to mind.

“That’s on Thursday.” Hiccup reminds him, which still leaves plenty of time for him to procrastinate.

“Hmm,” His father hums a second time, this time affirmingly as he remembers, and gets up from his seat, his chair scooting back even louder than Hiccup’s did.

Dinner is over and that means Hiccup would like to slip away to his room quietly to begin on his part of the presentation before he inevitably gets sidetracked by something else. Astrid has told him to “do some early research”.

But just as he intends to make his escape…

“Hiccup, the dishes.” His father calls him back as he gathers his own dishware. Hiccup turns away from the door, disappointed that he didn’t get away in time. Gobber chuckles silently before taking another gulp.

“Don’t behave like that, this is important work.” Stoick reminds him, like he does on many evenings.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Hiccup sighs, though he doesn’t quite agree. He knows doing the dishes is important, but why does he have to help? Why can’t they just get a dishwasher like everybody else?

“If you know, then why do I find you running off as soon as you finish your dinner?” Stoick asks as he stands in front of and turns towards the sink to run the water and put in the dish soap. Leaving his dirty dishes on the counter next to the sink, he rolls up his sleeves.

Gobber is heard letting out an audible “heh”, to which Hiccup gives him a none too pleased glance before rolling up his own sleeves as well and taking a dish towel to help.

His father has always been insistent on doing the housework and teaching his son the importance of it. It has nothing to do with a lack of a wife and mother in their lives.

_ “It is a man’s job to protect and provide, son, this includes a clean and proper house.” _ Is something Mayor Stoick often states. It’s his strong family values that gets him re-elect every term and he’s proud of them.

There probably should be a limit on those terms, but Bjørk is a small and insignificant town and Stoick’s power doesn’t reach far, so nobody quite cares.

“A house that is cared for is a home, Hiccup, and a home requires work. Never forget that. Just washing the dishes is more valuable than you can imagine.” And then there is also that. Stoick tells his son wisely, shutting off the faucet and washing the dishes.

Hiccup simply nods while waiting for some clean dishes to dry and stack. It’s much simpler then to deny it and say “a dishwasher is valuable, too” or something similar in a rather sassy tone.

“Let me provide you two men with some music while you work.” Gobber kindly offers and leaves the table to turn on the radio that is always present in the kitchen.

Washing the dishes, cleaning the table, and getting rid of leftovers takes an agonizing twenty minutes that Hiccup feels like he could’ve spent on something else if they had a dishwasher. Like procrastinating, for example!

But alas, his father has insisted and now those minutes are gone forever. But at the same time, Hiccup doesn’t mind that he had to help out in the end.

With everything done, his dad takes a beer and settles back at the table, rejoining his friend. They plan on talking some more with the radio playing in the background before moving into the living room and turning on the tv.

“I’ll be heading to my room now.” Hiccup announces now that there is no reason to inconspicuously slip away.

“Don’t forget your homework.” Stoick reminds him of the task at hand and Hiccup gives him a nod. Not that he really needs to as the homework of today is due next class a week from now. Except for the big assignment, for which they’ll have two weeks to complete.

Though perhaps, the wiser choice would probably be to do some work now so he’ll have less to do later, but that would mean that he’s productive in any way and Hiccup doesn’t want to give anyone that illusion.

He probably will end up doing something for that group project. Not for Snotlout’s sake, absolutely not for his sake, not after the amount of times that boy has already taken advantage of Hiccup’s smarts for school. But he would feel bad if he jeopardized Astrid’s grades just because he wants to be petty and do things not related to school.

Yeah, it looks like he’ll actually do some homework tonight.

Resigning himself to his fate, Hiccup makes for the door leading to the darkening living room.

The music from the radio cuts out, drawing his attention for a moment as he’s on his way out of the kitchen. Who they hear isn’t the usual host, but the news anchor instead. They must be broadcasting the news on both the tv and the radio.

“We briefly interrupt your programming to bring you an update on the new virus spreading amongst the populace.” He speaks and the conversation between his father and mentor comes to a halt as they take a listen.

Hiccup, in the meantime, continues on his way out.

“The number of hospital admittances has spiked significantly in the past 24 hours with a staggering 60% rise and experts fear there might be a side to this illness that we may have never seen before.” Those are certainly alarming words to hear, Hiccup stops in the middle of the living room and debates going back to listen for himself. He feels like he needs to.

“We have invited a guest virologist to tell us more.” But the news anchor’s and the virologist’s voices fade in the background as Hiccup goes out through the hallway door. There, the stairs will take him to his room, where Fiddlesticks will be waiting.

There is a worry nagging him, but his father reassured him everything will be okay. So he should believe him and not worry.

* * *

_ Looking back on that moment, the wiser decision now seems to be staying and listening to what they had to say. But then again, what did I know? I was just a kid. _


End file.
